“Your Grace.” Robert stared at Aragorn for a long moment, then shook his head in open disbelief.
“Your archery is better than anything I’ve seen in years.
Who taught you?” “My master in Essos, Your Grace.
The rest I learned by hunting.” Robert let out a loud bark of laughter.
“Self-taught?
I’ve been hunting since I could walk and I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that.
Gods, Ned, you’ve got a treasure here.
The whole realm should see this.
When you come south you’re bringing him with you.
I want every lord in King’s Landing to watch him shoot.” Barristan Selmy frowned.
“Your Grace, skill like that is wasted on hunting deer.
It belongs on a battlefield.” Aragorn kept his face calm.
“I’m content with Your Grace’s praise.” Robert looked like he was done talking.
He turned his horse to leave, then twisted in the saddle and shouted back over his shoulder.
“Don’t you dare miss the tourney!” He and Ned rode ahead while Barristan followed at a distance.
On the way back, Ned finally spoke.
“You were trying to recruit him, weren’t you?” Robert glanced sideways.
“What, you don’t want to lose him?” “His skill is real.
But…” “Spit it out, Ned.
I don’t have the patience for your careful words today.” Ned was quiet for a few strides.
“He reminds me of someone.” “Who?” “Bloodraven.” The name dropped like a stone.
Even Barristan’s expression changed.
Robert stared at Ned for a second, then burst out laughing.
“Bloodraven?
That old bastard’s been dead for over a hundred years.
You think this kid crawled out of his grave?
He’s barely twenty.
And the Bloodraven’s power died with him.
There’s no one left to carry on that line.” Ned shook his head.
“I’m not saying he’s Bloodraven’s son.
But I’ve seen him hit a deer at three hundred yards.
And that Valyrian steel sword at his hip… it’s too much of a coincidence.
Too many strange things have happened lately.” Robert clapped him on the shoulder, still chuckling.
“You’re seeing shadows, Ned.
He’s just a talented boy with a fancy sword.
Nothing more.” He kicked his horse into a faster walk, leaving Ned behind in a cloud of dust.
“Worry about Theon Greyjoy instead,” Robert called back.
“You raised that boy like a son.
One day he might bite the hand that feeds him.” — In a room above the Smoky Hearth, the bed creaked under steady movement.
Theon Greyjoy held up a golden coin stamped with the image of a naked woman and smirked.
“That Lys boy paid you a whole gold dragon just to tell him stories?” He laughed, low and mocking.
“What a fool.” Rose smiled lazily beneath him, red hair spread across the pillow.
“He’s been cooped up too long.
Doesn’t know how the world works.” When Aragorn had first arrived at the inn, Rose had tried to sell him her usual services.
He had refused.
Then he pulled out the heavy book about the Dance of the Dragons and offered her a gold coin if she could tell him the parts he didn’t know.
There were dozens of versions of that story across Westeros.
Every singer added their own flourishes.
Rose had taken the coin and talked until her throat was dry.
Theon’s hand tightened in her hair.
“How the hell did a soft little thing like that even make it to the North alive?” Rose pushed his hand away.
“Don’t underestimate my customer.
He’s got money.” Theon sat up abruptly.
“Money doesn’t mean shit if he’s just some jumped-up merchant from Essos.
Those people are everywhere.” Rose’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Careful, my lord.
You sound jealous.” “Jealous?” Theon’s face twisted.
“Of him?
Don’t make me laugh.
I’m a Greyjoy.
My family has ruled the Iron Islands for three hundred years.
Any house in the realm would think twice before crossing us.
That boy is nothing.
An insect.
I could crush him without thinking.” Rose traced a finger down his chest.
“He speaks nicely, though.
Makes a girl feel comfortable.” Theon’s expression darkened.
“I speak better.” He thrust harder, as if to prove it.
“Essosi men are soft.
Especially Lyseni.
They raise whores, not warriors.
Did he teach you any of their tricks?” Rose laughed, low and throaty.
“Oh, you are jealous.” “I am Theon Greyjoy!
My father fought for the freedom of his people.
Yours fucked a kitchen maid and got you.
One day I’ll restore the ironborn to their rightful place.
And when I do—” Rose winced as his grip tightened again.
“If you’re going to talk about your father while you’re inside me, at least get off first.” Theon froze.
Then he yanked his hand out of her hair and spat on the floor.
“Fuck.
I’m not paying you for this.”